


Baby-Bat's Got Some Tricks Up His Sleeves.

by Alexandria_Antoinette



Series: Mindless. [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Tim Drake, Gen, Hurt, Malnutrition, Tim Drake Whump, Tim Drake is Red Robin, jason feeling regret, not really stated but implied, tim is a coffee addict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 03:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19821541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_Antoinette/pseuds/Alexandria_Antoinette
Summary: Jason and Tim's relationship is tense at best; it's not like they know each other very well. One see's the other as a replacement, another see's the other as a danger to his well-being. Either way, things get a little scary when the kid turns up on a roof covered in puke and half out of his mind with fever.





	Baby-Bat's Got Some Tricks Up His Sleeves.

The nights were a bit cooler now that fall has arrived, but the chilly Gotham air was a welcome balm against Tim’s overheated skin. The suit doesn’t allow for much breathing, and what with all the layers tied up into his ensemble, it was a miracle Tim managed to jump from rooftop to rooftop. The latches and body armor was heavy and weighed down on his smaller frame every night. But tonight felt different; and he didn’t know how or why he knew this, but tonight was going to end _very_ badly if Tim wasn’t careful. That’s how he went through the nights motions; land a kick here, a punch there and ignore the way your head swims when you duck under a bullet too fast. His entire night felt off kilter, off balance. Maybe he didn’t eat enough today? Or was that yesterday? Time seems to blur when you’ve been up for over forty-eight hours. He landed in a crouch after another jump, the gravel of the layout trying to dig into his knees as he did. He stood himself up, ignoring the popping of his joints as he went over his supplies for the fifth time that night: re-breather, fear gas antidote, two extra grappling hooks, baterang, smoke bombs. Everything was there.

Then why were Tim’s hands shaking so hard? Why was it so hard to breath?

Tim leaned over the side of the roof as he dry-heaved, the only thing coming up being a few mouthfuls of brown bile, as he puked up his last two cups of coffee from earlier that night. His face felt fuzzy, like it was buried in a fluffy pillow as he let his weight settle on his haunches; his skin felt clammy and cold, while his entire body was drenched in a layer of sweat. His heart sped up as he tried to stand, vision blurring as he wobbled on his feet.

“A few-a few minutes nap, then.”

He muttered to himself as he stumbled towards the entry way to the roof, leaning against it’s side as his body wracked itself with chills and shivers. The last coherent thought he remembered having was something along the lines of “Oh _fuck_.”

Jason’s night had gone perfectly. Black Masks deal with Lex Luthor had been thwarted, all of Masks’ smuggled cocaine had been blown to bits and Red Hood made away with a duffel bag full of high-quality guns no one else on the market has, nor will they have for at least another seven months; longer, if Hood has any say in the matter.

The night was supposed to end on reviewing the notes he had left in Baby-Birds hands to go over; something he found on Ra’s and Penguin working together over something big. When he pulled up to the cave’s garage, his bikes motor ringing in his ears along the concrete wall, it was to B sitting at the computer, a heavy scowl laying on his slightly stress-wrinkled face.

“Heya B, whats gotcha all wound up? You look a little tense.”

Bruce’s scowl only deepened as he spun around to glance at Jason, the dark rings under his eyes obscured by the black make-up he wore.

“Red Robin has been neglecting his duty of filing reports in the computer. He hasn’t completed a full report in the past four days, and his equipment check last night was sub-par at best. I will be needing to talk to him about this within the next few days if he does not adjust his behavior accordingly.”

Jason knew he wasn’t going to get to that talk; Bruce never was good at communicating, and even though he’s seemed to have gotten better over the years, it doesn’t negate the fact that mot of the time it was Alfred or Dick that helped little Baby-Bird around the whole ‘bat business.’

“Well do you have any clue on when his patrols usually end? Because the two of us have a few notes to go over before I end the night.”

Bruce shook his head no.

“Red Robin only finishes his patrols when he feels he no longer has anything to stop.” Jason let his head fall forward with a groan.

“But,” Bruce continued, grabbing his empty coffee mug with a flourish as he stood, “As long as he hasn’t called you to re-schedule this meeting, he should be back by three.”

Jason startled, “Wait, like three in the morning? You let the kid stay out that long? Hell, I wasn’t even allowed to go on a patrol alone before I was fourteen, let alone until _three in the morning_.”

Jason had to stress these last few words as Bruce made his way up the stairs, onto the base level of the manor. He stopped, his back still to Jason as he spoke with clarity.

“Not only has Timothy proven that his IQ is almost equal to mine, he has also shown he has remarkable capabilities when referring to both his fighting styles and his problem solving skills. I trust him to not only ensure everyone around him is safe, but to also keep himself in check when met with unsavory enemies.”

The blatant ‘ _I never trusted you to do that_ ’ was clear in his voice as he continued up the stairs. Or maybe it was just in Jason’s head, that tone of voice. He felt his heart drop slightly as Bruce closed the entrance door behind him, effectively leaving Jason alone in the cave.

By hour three of waiting for the kid, Jason had had enough; seating himself in the bat-computers chair, he brought up the tracking device attached to every robin uniform up onto screen. It reads that Tim was apparently on some building rooftop in the nicer parts of Gotham, and Jason transferred the location to his helmet, leaving the cave with a loud revving of his bike and skid-marks against the concrete floor. As Jason swerved between buildings and empty alleyways, his palms began to sweat.

He and the replacement haven’t been alone together since the ambush in titans tower, and that was a bit of a tough spot for the both of them. Jason himself was a touch guilty about it, and every time the two of them had been in a room, there was underlying tension in Jason’s shoulders. Hand it to the Baby-Bird to be a mini-Bruce about it; it’s almost like the incident never happened, according to him. Yeah, he was always tense whenever Jason spotted him, but that just seemed to be how the kid carried himself. He’s always curt and short-spoken, only revealing the necessary information and nothing more. Hell, if it wasn’t for Dick’s text he wouldn’t even know how old the kid was. He’s apparently turning fourteen next month, and Dick’s planning this whole party for the little shit. Jason felt himself snort at the idea; a circus boy turned billionaire heir throwing a spoiled brat a surprise party? Sounds _hilarious_. His helmet informed him he was arriving at his destination, and as he pulled his bike into an alley way to begin his ascent to the rooftop, he felt…..off.

Something was wrong; the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing up straight, and as he hurried his climbing and finally hefted himself over the side of the building, he could see why. Jason never realized how tiny the kid was; sure, he knew he was young, but no thirteen year old boy should look so small, so _breakable_. The area of his face that was visible from under his cowl was pale, almost a greenish tint as all the blood left his face. The kid was leaning his back against the rooftop entrance, his upper body listing forward slightly as he begins to lose whatever consciousness he has left. there was a puddle of something on his lap, and as Jason got closer he could make out the acrid smell of bile. Jason hurried his steps, getting closer to the kid as he lifted his head up, looking towards the direction of footfalls. His eyes widened as he saw Jason, alarm bells ringing in his muddled mind.

“No,no no no. NO! Go **away**!”

He lifted himself from the wall and threw his arms out, panic obvious in his voice as he spoke. Jason stopped, his body stock-still as the kid heaved another breath before leaning forward, puking up another mouthful of vomit. It was brown, which sent another wave of alarm bells through Jason; this kid obviously sick.

“Hey, hey kid listen-”

He tried to step closer, but the panic was still clear in Tim’s mind as he threw himself even closer to the wall, jerking back so abruptly his head cracked against the concrete. He was clearly out of his mind with fever. The small slip of skin visible to Jason was covered in sweat.

“Baby-Bird, listen you need to calm down or-”

Tim wasn’t listening; the fever has completely destroyed his observation skills. One moment he was standing right in-front of Jason, shaking so hard he thought the kid might fall over, and the next he was trying to leap over the side of the building. Jason had to think fast; without realizing it, he was following the kid until he could safely wrap his arm around the boys mid-section before he made that final leap over the edge. Jason pressed Tim’s back to his chest, and had made it two steps away from the edge of the building before Tim’s thought process kicked in. He thrashed in Jason’s arms, wiggling as hard as he could against the steel grip surrounding him. His arms flailed around violently, trying to get a grip on Jason’s shoulders, head or biceps.

The struggle lasted for a full minute, Jason taking one step back at a time as Tim wore himself out. It took Jason a moment to realize that, under the grunting and half-formed screams that Tim was letting loose, he was also pleading with Jason not to hurt him and wow, that hurt. Words like “ _Please_ ,” “ _I didn’t mean to_ ,” “ _What did I do this time_ ,” and the last one that really struck a cord in Jason’s chest was the tiny plead Tim let go once his struggling finally died down to a whimper of “ _Please don’t do it again, I won’t be able to fix it this time_ ” before a heavy sob broke through his throat.

“Don;t you worry your pretty little head, Baby-Bird,” Jason muttered once Tim had gone completely limp in his arms, eyes fluttering closed behind the lenses of the cowl, “I’ll fix ya.”

Riding a bike with an unconscious passenger was a lot harder than one may think; Jason had to sit the boy on his lap as he ride, head against his chest as the bike rumbled across the road. He felt some sick gratitude towards how small the kid was; at least he was easy to carry when not in his right mind. By the time they reached one of Jason’s safe-houses, his stomach was once more heavy with guilt and regrets as he lifted the kid up carefully, arms tight around his smaller body as they made their way up to Jason’s supply room.

“Sorry about this in advance, Baby-Bird, but I gotta get a look at what we’re dealing with.” Jason muttered as he slowly un-did the latches scattered across the kids chest, careful not to apply too much pressure before he knew what he was doing. The latched body-armor stretched across the kids torso was released with a final snap, and as Jason lifted it from the under-suit, he was once again hit with how tiny Tim was.

The armor added another three inches to his width, and without them he looked so tiny it was almost sick. As Jason got to cutting the body-suit off from the kid, he felt a wave of nausea as he slowly cut downwards from the hollow of the kids throat; his collar bones stuck out sickeningly, out towards the ball of his shoulders. Going further down revealed the ribs poking out from his clavicle and towards his armpits that were as hollowed out as his collar bones. Even further shows a caved-in stomach, the ribs lining it poking out with a sickening sharpness. Clearly, the kid was malnourished, and the look of it forced Jason to remove the helmet and glance away sharply, a hand covering his mouth as bile threatened to travel up his throat.

Not only was the kid skinny to a drastically concerning level, he was also beat all to hell. There wasn’t an area on him that didn’t look like it was beaten with some chain, or maybe a baseball bad when looking at the wide bruising along his ribs and stomach. He continued to cut the rest of the way down, revealing sharp hip bones and bruised thighs. His knees were knobby and bow-legged, leading into black-shined legs and grey feet.

The swelling in his left foot looked like it had been hit pretty hard, but id didn’t seem to be broken. Jason pressed his hands against Tim’s sides gently, looking for a broken or fractured rib as he went down, another wave of nausea hitting him when he noticed the large hand-print bruised into his upper thigh, dangerously close to his nether region. Thanking whatever god was listening that nothing seemed extremely life-threatening, Jason sat down on his knees as he watched every rattling breath the kid took. All Jason could do was dress the kid in actual clothing, cover him and attach an IV drip to him to keep the kid hydrated. Jason lifted Tim in his arms once more, bringing him to the master bedroom and gently bringing a shirt over his head and sweatpants to cover his legs. Both articles were drowning the kid, another sign to how unhealthy he looked. Jason placed him under the heavy duvet and wiped the inside of his elbow down before sticking the needle in. He looked so sick, so small Jason couldn’t believe he had done what he did. Who was he to think he had any right to make this kid suffer?

Jason sighed and placed his head in his hands, guilt once more weighing him down. He’s grown a lot since then, has more control over himself and what he does. He no longer feels hatred for the kid before him, no longer holds Bruce responsible. It doesn’t mean he isn’t hurting though. Yeah, what happened was horrible, but he had thought that maybe Bruce would treat the replacement better; would put down more restrictions. The only reason that incident happened in the first place was because Jason had been out, alone. Maybe, he had hoped, the next one would be safer. Then he actually saw the next one, and his blood curdled in his veins. How dare Bruce replace him, just like that? How dare he not even care what happened to him? How dare he not avenge him? Jason has yet to get the full story out of anyone, but what he does know is that 1), the kid is smart as a whip. 2), He’s the son of some high-up socialite, and 3) he’s too young to look the way he does. Hours pass in relative silence, the only noises being Jason’s shifting in the seat and Tim’s ragged, shallow and wheezing breaths.

By sunrise Jason was haggered, his eyes burned and his head hurt but he wasn’t moving from this seat until the kid woke up. If he wakes up, Jason has to remind himself. It’s possible the kid is in a coma, from what Jason had witnessed. He leaned forward and removed a glove, pressing the back of his hand against the kids sharp cheek and wincing; he was burning up.

Jason resolved to leave the room for a moment, gathering a rag from a drawer and rinsing it in cold water from the sink. He was just wringing the extra water out when he froze; a very loud thump sounded throughout the apartment, and Jason dropped the rag to run through the kitchen, picking up a discarded gun on his way to the master bedroom. He pushed the door open, expecting to see some robber or thug standing over Tim, but what he was greeted with was a small puddle under the IV drip, an empty bed and an open window. Jason dashed over to the opening to peak his head outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the kid as he hopped from rooftop to rooftop, but all he could see was the slow rising of the sun over Gotham as the city woke back up.

Jason really hoped he’d be seeing the kid the next time he entered the cave; awkward or not.

He did, in fact, see the kid the next day. He was awake, in uniform and still gearing up for an early patrol. Jason parked his bike next to the kids, watching tense shoulders roll out as he turned. Jason was almost offended at the blank look in those sharp blue eyes, the cowl hanging loose down the kids upper back. But instead of turning back to whatever he was doing, he opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again and let the silence stew in his absence of what to say.

“Eh-hem,” He cleared his throat, rubbed raw from vomit and acid as he tried to speak clearly, the clicking of his dry throat making Jason feel uncomfortable. “Thank you for the assistance last night, Hood.”

As always, the kid was sharp and curt, voice low and raspy as he lifted the cowl up and over his head.

“When.”

Jason blurted out against his better judgement, and Tim froze.

“When what, Hood?”

“When did B make you robin?”

The silence was almost physical, like one could touch it if you tried. Jason watched Tim’s shoulders hunch up, close to his ears as he inhaled sharply, letting the breath escape him slowly through his nose.

“He didn’t. I did.”

Jason reeled back as if slapped as Tim continued.

“When you died, Batman went berserk. He went from incapacitating simple thugs until police arrived, to placing them in full bodied casts for six months. Over a wallet. By the time he had nearly beaten five people to death, I had approached him.”

Tim brought up files on current cases as he spoke, like he was bored and planned to pass the time, but Jason could see the new tension across his jaw and shoulders.

“I had known who all of you were for quite some time, and so decided to confront batman. I had said that batman needed a new robin to keep him in check, to keep him from going too far.”

Jason laughed humorlessly, “And he just let you in? Just like that?”

“No. Not at all. It took me three days to convince him to train me, let me become robin. As long as I made sure I was at home by seven A.M every other day to make sure the cleaning lady noticed me, I was free to do what I needed to. Six months after training, during a mission with the titans, you came back.” And that was where Tim ended it, signaling so by standing up from the chair and making his way over to his own little bike and swerving out into the night. Jason felt a heavy ball of regret and shame well up inside of him as watched the kid go.


End file.
